Tony and Carmela sit down to discuss the situation. It seems that Tony wasn't named in the indictment, because the FBI was focusing on some credit-card scam that Junior and Mikey P were handling. Tony just wasn't involved. Luck. It was all luck.
Artie is conferring with his clergyman again. Artie has decided to be a ray of sunlight in an otherwise bleak and grey world. The priest and I aren't following. Well, it seems that Artie has decided that Livia is not the most trustworthy witness. She tends to be overly negative and lives in what the rest of us might call La La Land. Perhaps he shouldn't so write off an old, trusted friend so quickly just because his mom is a wack bitch who hates her own son and tries to ruin his life in every way she can. Good idea there, Artie.
Look who just stepped off the runway. It's Junior Soprano, sporting a lovely orange jumpsuit. Is it a Donatella or a Lawrence Steele? Oh, who cares, it's the latest rage in the fall shows in Milan. Junior's talking to some chumpy Fed, who's trying to get him to flip by making him feel like less of a man. Do you think that's why they make prisoners wear bright orange? To make them feel emasculated? Maybe they should make them wear fuchsia. That could work. The fed is pointing out that Junior had a short reign as capo. He wasn't really in charge, was he? They're not really interested in Junior; they want his capos. Junior points out that he wants to fuck Angie Dickinson, and he can't wait to see who gets lucky first. Hee hee hee. The fed's tactics aren't really working, although Junior does look perturbed at the idea of Tony running the show while he's in the can.
Carmela bundles into the house with an armful of groceries. The priest rushes up to help. She wants to know how the hell he got in the house. He says the maid let him in; he wanted to talk about Tony and the indictments. He rented a movie, too, if she wants to watch. He fixes them a Lillet. She watches him for awhile and then lets it fly. Father, she says, Tony doesn't give a flying fuck about trying to change. He's a sinner, but the priest happily comes in and eats his steak, drinks his liquor, spooges all over his home entertainment system, and hits on his wife. All under the guise of being a caring member of the clergy. He likes the whiff of asexual sexuality. He likes the food and he likes the attention. He is a bad, bad priest who really needs to examine his life. Ann Landers?!? Why didn't you warn me that my trusted member of the clergy could be a schnorrer? Damn you, Dear Abby. ["I'm so glad Carmela finally housed Father Intintola. He really is a schnorrer, and his goatee annoys me on a visceral level." -- Sars]